rouge et bleu (est violet)
by carzla
Summary: [One Shot] Love is "red". But his love is tinted with blue. His love is purple (and never enough). But it is steadfast and only for one person... from now until forever.


_**rouge et bleu (est violet)**_

_Disclaimer:_

_K belongs to GoRA. Warning for Fushimi's POV, and thus possible disturbing imagery though it's not really graphic. I only own this idea born from musing over Fushimi and his actions, and how they all revolve around one Yata Misaki. Thank you._

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**Full Summary:**

**[One Shot] Love is "red". But his love is tinted with another hue – blue. His love is purple, bruised and impure (and never enough). However, it is steadfast and only ever for one particular person… and it will always be, from now until forever.**

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His love is purple. A gory, glorious mix of violent red and freezing blue.

Once, perhaps, his love was just red. The color "love" was supposed to normally be. But they were past the point of normalcy…

(Or was it only him?)

Misaki was bright and vibrant and pure. He glowed; he burned; he scorched and left his mark without ever knowing it himself. And Saruhiko had been branded.

(Red. He loved that color. He really did.)

Then HOMRA swept in, a rampaging inferno heedlessly consuming everything in Saruhiko's world – Misaki. And Saruhiko realized ever the more starkly that he was _not Red._ He did not fit, but brilliant, _Red_ Misaki did. Misaki burned all the brighter in HOMRA, all the more vividly in the Red King's presence.

It was a light that Saruhiko had never witnessed before. A Red that shone so intensely, so much that it hurt his eyes… And he would've borne it wordlessly, would've willingly let it blind him with its radiance… if that light had been for him, and only him.

(It had been him and Misaki in that cozy, closed off world of theirs. He knew Misaki's Red, all its different shades and nuances… Or he thought he did.)

His love had been red, had been reaching out towards his Misaki, but hadn't been able to touch. He had Red, but it wasn't strong enough because of the two of them, Misaki was the Sun and he was the Moon basking in the warm, dazzling rays bestowed upon him. It was clear since the beginning, since before Kings and Clans came into play, that Saruhiko was always brighter in Misaki's presence.

But his Sun had turned away from him, and Saruhiko was cold…

(Blue. It crept in on the edges, slowly, quietly… And it froze. _He _froze.)

He hadn't ever been truly Red, not really, just enough to be accepted into HOMRA it seemed. Now, another hue was taking over, slowly but surely. Blue was crystallizing, _dominating_, because Saruhiko was not warmth and had never been. He was cold, had always been cold at the core.

The day he joined SCEPTER4, the day he left HOMRA, the day he tarnished the crest in front of Misaki's eyes… The day he found another way to bask in Misaki's undivided attention, in the searing hatred of his Sun… To have that gaze directed solely on him, to own the entirety of Misaki in this manner… It was heady, a drug high that left him starved and craving for more from the moment they parted.

(It was an acceptable substitute. It was the _only _substitute, because Misaki had long since branded Saruhiko as his, but Saruhiko hadn't made a mark… Until now.)

He was Blue. Yet in front of Misaki, he found Red (in blood) again. Then he saw Purple in the bruises that bloomed on his skin and Misaki's skin from when they punched each other, and it was _perfect._

Purple is a perfect blend of Red and Blue, of Misaki and of Saruhiko. It is mottled and painful and fitting of their relationship that once flourished vivaciously but is now withering away, yet stubbornly clinging to the barest fringes of life… Because Saruhiko does not give up, not on Misaki. Never Misaki. Never, never, _never_.

His love is purple, is bruises left by bare knuckles, is the aftermath of a brawl where skill is abandoned for the naked thrill of fierce skin-to-skin contact. It is how he marks Misaki, and how he makes Misaki mark him – visibly – in return.

Saruhiko has always been Misaki's. Misaki will be Saruhiko's in any way that Saruhiko can get.

Misaki will be his, his, _his. _Saruhiko will hold on to that fading Red thread and cover it with Blue, turn it Purple and transform it into chains. Chains that will not break, will not rust, will not corrode… not even when Black Death comes a knocking.

_Look at me, Misaki. Look at me, and only me. Forever._

(Misaki is Red, only Red, is pure. Saruhiko was Red, then Blue but finally Purple, is tainted.)

His love is purple and stained and twisted. His love is hate and desire and affection. His love is unhinged, corrupting and toxic.

His love is but a pitiful caricature born from the heart of a lonely, cowardly, wretchedly miserable soul. But that is all he knows, and… and it will never be enough.

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**This idea came to me as I was attempting to sleep on the 13-hour flight home for the winter holidays - clearly, I did not do much sleeping after that. I blame it on watching episode 10 in the morning before my flight. ^^" I had all the feels for Fushimi after listening to the drama CD between him and Yata... and then episode 10 just amplified them all the more. Then I read Miyano Mamoru's thoughts on Fushimi, and just...**

**Well, hope you've enjoyed it!**

_**carzla**_


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